Love and Vengeance
by cait-auroara
Summary: Charlie was looking for answers about the death of someone she loved and was led to John and Finch. Did they kill Alicia Corwin or is there more lurking beneath the surface of the supposed robbery homicide. Charlie is on a crash course for team machine, and only time will tell if her hatred or a larger conspiracy will pull her into the dark depths of AI and Spies. Slow burn John/OC
1. Chapter 1

Charlie Green tried to control her nerves as she pretended to powder her nose across the street from the Eighth Precinct of the NYPD. She had her back to the precinct and was standing in a dead spot between two of the street cameras facing her side of the block. She watched in the compacts mirror as the attractive detective she had spent the last week or so tailing walked up the steps and through the doors of the police station. Putting the mirror away she pulled out a paper and pretended to read for a couple of minutes. It was the middle of the day, so she wanted to give the Detective time to settle in after lunch but didn't want to risk her getting called out on a case. She knew that the window of opportunity to catch the detective without her partner would be hard to come by again. Looking in the compact mirror, she checked one last time that her short black-haired wig was in place and that her brown colored contacts looked ok. Straightening the hipster style frames she was wearing, she took a deep breath and headed across the street, careful to keep her face averted from the several security cameras in the vicinity.

Taking off her black wool jacket, she entered the precinct and spoke to the Desk Sergeant. She told the portly Sergeant with the kind face and booming voice, that she had an appointment and was asked to sign in and show id. When she had first been trying to figure out a way to get into the precinct without tipping her hand, Charlie had decided that imitating a reporter was her best bet. After looking through personnel records for the major newspapers in New York she had stumbled across Gina Taylor. Charlie was sure she could fake Gina's look and it had been surprisingly easy to fake the press credentials. She just hoped that the Detective she was at the 8th Precinct to see had never met the real Gina Taylor. Charlie was pretty sure the chances were minimal, Ms. Taylor wasn't a field reporter and worked research on the sports desk. Still, she was a little nervous as she clipped on the visitors pass the Sergeant gave her and followed his directions up to the second floor.

"Detective Carter," Charlie greeted when she got to the Detective's desk. Putting on a smile and extending her hand she said, "I'm Gina Taylor with the _Post_. Thank you for meeting me on such short notice."

"Ms. Taylor," Carter said, returning her hand shake and signaling Charlie to sit on the chair at the side of her desk. "I only have a couple of minutes unfortunately. You said over the phone that you were working on a story about a string of robberies that related to an old case of mine?"

"Yes. I am tracking a crew that works on the East River Water Front from Pier 35 up to East River Park. The case that caught my attention was a drug related robbery homicide from May 17, 2012. The victim's name was Alicia Corwin."

If Charlie hadn't been looking for it, she might have missed the subtle reaction that the name caused in Detective Carter. She definitely knew something. "The Corwin case? You think that is related to the story you're following? That was almost three years ago. I'm sorry but I don't really remember that much about it."

"Yes, well I was hoping that you might let me have a peak at the case file. I put in a request for a copy with the city about a month ago and my Editor is getting on me about wrapping this up soon."

"I'm sorry, but my Captain is pretty strict about that sort of thing. You'll have to wait to go through the proper channels."

"Is there anything that you're allowed to tell me or can do to speed up the process? My Editor is really riding me. Please?"

"Well," said Carter warily, "Let me go grab my notes from the case and make a phone call and I can give you a brief overview."

"Thank you so much. You are seriously saving my job here," Charlie gushed, laying on as much charm as she dared. As soon as Carter was out of the room, Charlie pulled a thumb drive from her purse and, making sure no one was looking, reached across and plugged it into the USB port on the side of Carter's keyboard. The hacker acquaintance she had purchased to drive from had assured her that the drive would unlock and copy a hard drive in 60 seconds or less. While she waited, she slipped on an earpiece to listen to the bug that she had planted on Carter during their handshake.

"John," Charlie heard Carter saying. She must have made a phone call. "There's a woman here at the station asking about the Corwin case. She's pretending to be a reporter. Gave me some cock and bull story about a robbery string near pier 35 that she's investigating. You said if anyone ever came sniffing around the case you wanted me to call. What do you want me to do?"

"Try to get a picture of her," Charlie heard a low male voice reply as she pulled the thumb drive out of the key board and got up to leave. "And stall her. I'm five minutes away. I can follow her as she comes out of the precinct." The voice sent a chill down her spine. She had reached the street outside and turned left, walking briskly away. She wanted to get out of the vicinity as quickly as possible.

As she turned the corner at the end of the block, she could hear Carter asking another officer if he had seen where Charlie had gone. After a couple of minutes, Carter made another call. "John," she said, "She's gone. I don't understand? She didn't get any information. Why come down here at all?"

"I don't know," she heard the soft voice answer. "I'll have Finch check the security feeds to try and get a picture." _Good luck, _Charlie thought as she climbed down to the subway. "Can you meet me in an hour? West side of the fountain in Washington Square Park?"

"Yeah, I'll be there."

'_Finally,' _Charlie thought as she ducked into the public restroom and began to change. Even the horrendous smell could not dampen her elation. She had wasted three weeks trying to track down the ghost that was Harold Finch from Alicia's notes. After giving up she had decided to take a different tack and now, suddenly, a link to the mysterious Mr. Finch fell into her lap. Pulling off her wig and unpinning her hair, she let her natural mahogany curls cascade down her back. Next, she took off the maxi skirt she had been wearing over her black skinny jeans. Stuffing the skirt in her messenger bag, she pulled out an empty, rolled up black back pack and stuffed the messenger bag in the bottom, making sure to take out the items she would need easy access to. Last she changed from the colorful blouse she had worn to see Detective Carter to a black turtleneck. Putting her peacoat and backpack on, she waited for the next subway train to arrive before exiting the bathroom, pulling up her hood, and blending into the crowd exiting the platform

* * *

The surprisingly sunny February afternoon meant that Charlie didn't stand out as she sat on one of the sinuous stone benches facing the park. Even though it was still very chilly, NYU students and courageous tourists dotted the park. As she ate the chocolate croissant and drank her latte from the French style bakery she had found down the street, she was hit with a sudden pang of homesickness. While she had grown up in Colorado Springs, and gone to college in Maryland and New York, she had lived for the past four years in the Servette neighborhood of Geneva, Switzerland. Every morning on the way to the metro, she had stopped at a boulangerie around the corner from her flat for croissants and coffee and then ate them in one of the parks on the way to work at the Palais des Nations. While the croissant she was eating currently wasn't quite as good, it was nice to be doing something familiar.

Checking her watch, she saw that she had ten minutes until Detective Carter was supposed to meet the mysterious and gruff voiced John. Checking that the little laser shotgun microphone was set up to record on her iPad, she positioned the backpack so that the mesh pocket the microphone was in was angled towards where Detective Carter was supposed to meet the mysterious John. That done, she transferred her earbuds from her phone to the iPad and then pulled out a book and started to read. A couple of minutes later, she saw the Detective enter the park and head towards a tall, attractive but forgettable man in a black suit and wool overcoat. _'Ah, that must be the Clint Eastwood mimic,'_ she thought.

"Detective," he greeted in the same gravely, almost whisper she had heard on the phone. All he needed for the impersonation to be complete was to ask a punk to make his day. "It's good to see you back at work. How are you feeling?"

"Good. I'm almost done with PT and I'll be back on active duty in a week or so. Riding a desk is driving me crazy, but I'm just grateful that I'm bored, not dead." She smiled then, looking out over the park. After a couple of moments of awkward silence, she looked up at John. "How long before we are back to normal?" she asked.

'_Normal?' _Charlie thought. What was the Detective asking about?

After another long pause, Carter turned back to John and he smiled at her, a little wistfully it seemed, before leading her towards the fountain. "I don't know Joss. I'm sorry it didn't work out between us-"

The rest of the conversation became inaudible as they sat on the lip of the fountain and the acoustics of its bowl started throwing back an overwhelming amount of ambient noise. Discretely, Charlie reached into her bag and switched off the mic before unplugging her earbuds and switching them back to her phone. Luckily, the Detective had not discovered her bug yet. "How about you, how was Italy?" Carter was asking.

"Interesting. Stopped an Israeli hit squad. Kept a plane from blowing up. Got a new suit. You know the usual."

"Uh-huh. Do you guys have a new case yet?"

"Yeah, Kelli Lin. Shaw, Finch and I are going to an event she's planning at the Metropolitan History Museum." _'Yes,_' Charlie thought. She knew exactly where Harold Finch was going to be tonight and she could finally catch a glimpse at the bastard she was sure had been involved, and maybe responsible for, Alicia's murder. Mentally shaking her head, she tuned back into the conversation as John was asking the Detective about her visitor.

"She called me earlier today inquiring if she could come ask some questions about a cold case. I usually wouldn't have given her the time of day but, like I said, sitting at a desk all day is boring. I didn't know she was looking into the Corwin case until she showed up. After I talked to you on the phone and found that she was gone, I called the _Post_ and was told that while they do have a Gina Taylor, she works the sports desk and just went out on maternity leave today."

"Finch hasn't had a chance to look at the footage from the station yet, he was running some errands this morning. What did she look like?"

"Caucasian, short, maybe 5'1", 5'2", slim. Definitely not 8 months pregnant. She had chin length black hair with bangs, glasses, brown eyes. That sound familiar?"

"No," he mused. "But we should be able to find out who she is pretty quickly. Hold on a second," he said before getting out his ringing phone. As he went to answer it, there was a sudden high pitched feedback whine. Pausing, John looked from the phone to a bemused looking Carter. "Joss, I think you've been bugged."

'_Shit,'_ Charlie thought. As naturally as she could, she reached into her pocket and shut off her phone. Putting her book away, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and got up to casually walk out of the park. She wanted to look back to see if they had taken notice of her but dared not.

* * *

Charlie smoothed down the front of her velvet cocktail dress and her auburn wig as she walked into the Metropolitan History Museum. Smiling at Henry, her escort, she was once again thankful that she had gone to grad school at Columbia. That afternoon she had tried to figure out how she was going to get close to John and the elusive Mr. Finch when she had remembered her old friend from Columbia, Henry Walker. He was working as an assistant curator for the museum and getting him to invite her to the event that evening had been child's play.

"You look hot Green," Henry replied as he took her coat to give to the attendant.

She smiled up at him as she took his arm. After securing the invitation, she had rushed to Bloomingdales to find something to wear and had been relieved to find the wine colored dress. It had been perfect with its three-quarter length sleeves and the asymmetrical cut out over her décolletage. What had been better was finding the 4 inch, black suede, Ferragamo pumps. Even though she had limited resources if she wanted to stay off the grid, she justified the expense because she knew she could get a lot of mileage out of the dress and heels for events she constantly had to attend at home. _If_ she made it home. Besides, she was on something of a crusade, so it was worth it.

"You clean up nice yourself Walker. That tux is a damn sight better than the ratty jeans and Tool t-shirts you were always wearing to class. I think your professors were incensed that the most promising Art History student of the year dressed like such a slacker."

"That's just how you do in Cali baby," he said as they entered the main reception hall and checked in. "Charlie, do you mind wandering around on your own for a bit? I need to go check in with my boss."

Smiling, she waved him off before proceeding to move slowly around the room, admiring the art and artifacts while keeping an eye out for targets. She was admiring a beautiful Cezanne landscape when John walked in. She was taken aback by how handsome he looked, tall and broad shouldered in a beautifully tailored black tuxedo. _'Just because he's sexy, doesn't mean he isn't a murderer,_' she reprimanded herself sternly. Beside him was a shorter man with glasses and spiky hair. As they got into the reception line, she noticed that he was walking with a limp and seemed to have a very stiff neck. Wandering over to look at a statue of a lady playing a harp, she could hear them as they checked in.

"Wren, Harold," the man told the attendant.

"Of course, Harold Wren," she said, looking up from her clipboard only to look admiringly at John. "And guest."

'_This has to be him!'_ thought Charlie, trying to reign in her excitement. After a month of searching all over New York for even a trace of the bastard, here he was. She followed them around the room, watching as they admired the art. As she watched, she saw John touch his ear discretely and was wondering at the odd little motion when it occurred to her that he was communicating with someone. _'But Harold is right there,_' she thought. Then she realized that there must be another member of their evil little cabal that he was talking too. Was it someone in the room now, at the event? She wished she could hear what they were saying. As Harold wandered into the crowd around an old text, Charlie realized that if she were going to get a bug on him, the crowd looking at the ancient tome was going to afford her the best opportunity. Reaching into her bag she lifted out one of the last bugs from her supplies of surveillance equipment and began moving towards Harold. Half way there, all hell broke loose.

The lights suddenly died and the event hostess started speaking over the sound system. She was half way through asking everyone to stay calm when soft popping explosions could be heard going off, one after another, all the way around the room. Smoke was curling along the floor, women were screaming, and suddenly everyone was rushing about, trying to find an exit. Taking advantage of the hysteria and the several people jostling Harold as he stood still in the middle of the stream of bodies exiting the building, Charlie hurriedly closed the distance to Harold and dropped the bug into his pocket from behind as an elderly couple jostled him from the front. Continuing on with the wave of excitable party goers, Charlie exited the museum, triumphant.

* * *

Hello, thank you for reading the first chapter of my first ever published FanFic. I hope you enjoyed it!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Charlie was elated. Not only had she planted a bug on the evil little Mr. Finch, but she had figured out the identity of the third operator in their group, a small Persian looking woman whose last name was Shaw, and she had tailed them to a beautiful townhouse off of Lafayette. That had been especially entertaining. Hailing a cab outside of the museum after seeing John and Finch get into a car, she tried to come up with a story to give the cabbie to get him to follow the town car. As it turned out, she hadn't needed one because as soon as she uttered the word "follow", the cute little Puerto Rican cabbie named Jimmy had turned and asked whether it was a cheating boyfriend or husband. Not only that, he had told her that this sort of thing happened more than she might have thought and that he had gotten pretty good at it. And bless him, he was. He hadn't stayed too close and had even guessed that the town car was being evasive a couple of times because they turned up a couple of streets that Jimmy said would just lead back to a main avenue and they had caught up with them there. Charlie had been more than impressed and had given the guy an enormous tip and taken his card. Jimmy told her that if she needed a driver and he was available in her area, he'd be more than happy to help her catch the "dirt bag."

The downside was that when John, Finch, and Shaw entered their apartment, a high-pitched whine could be heard through the bug. _'Shit,'_ she had thought, _'there goes another one.'_ Still, before its detection she had heard that they were tracking the event planner from the museum who they thought had stolen the Cezanne Charlie had been admiring. She was confused as to why they cared. Were they planning on stealing it from Kelli? She had also heard them mention something about a library. The way they had talked about it, she wondered if it was their base of operations but why would they have their evil bat cave in such a public place? Maybe it wasn't a public library or not a library at all? She had puzzled about that tidbit all the way back to her hotel in the Gramercy Park area.

When she had first arrived in New York, she had tried to stay at a no tell motel but, after a week of dealing with the lack of cleanliness and the extremely noisy working ladies in the surrounding rooms, she had decided to look for alternate accommodations. Next she had tried a hostel in the Village. It had been cute and vibrant with lots of college aged travelers. She had loved it and the fact that she had gotten a private room for so cheap. She had stayed there for a couple of weeks before moving on, afraid to stay in one place too long as Alicia's voice whispered, _'be careful, be invisible, keep moving.'_ Now she was staying at a hotel on East 17th Street. The staff was friendly, the rooms although outdated, were extremely clean, and the line for the shared bathroom was never too long. The free Wi-Fi was also a plus, even if the room was twice as much per night as the hostel.

The next couple of days were spent trying to follow John and company as they followed Kelli Lin. Trying and failing. After a couple of attempts to keep tabs on the three members of the team, she was getting annoyed that she kept losing them. She didn't think that they had spotted her yet though. She was careful to change her look every time she lost one of them. After a couple of days, she saw an article in the newspaper about the breakup of a band of Czech thieves that was linked to several robberies in Europe and the Middle East as well as the Cezanne from the Museum and a recently stolen Gutenberg Bible. The article talked about an unnamed Asian female who had helped Interpol bring down the group of thugs. She didn't understand. What were John and Finch's roles in this? Had they merely been trying to extort Kelli into helping them steal from the Czech's? She couldn't believe that they had been helping Kelli or the authorities. Not after what she suspected they had done to Alicia.

Either way, she had been forced to changed tack again. She couldn't follow John, Finch, or Shaw: they were just too good at being sneaky little bastards. The upside of her failure was that she was sure they had not been able to turn the tail around and follow her. When she had been younger, her father had made a game out of teaching her some of the tradecraft skills he had learned while in Army Intelligence. He had taught her how to follow someone, how to spot a tail on herself, and other basic surveillance, counter surveillance, and cypher skills. Even during her turbulent teenage years, they had always been able to bond over the little spy games they played. Thinking about her father made her ache. She missed him so much and thinking about him made her deal with the fact that she had no living family left. Not wanting to get bogged down in a grief that had snuck up on her frequently of late, she had decided to solve the mystery of their base of operations.

Diving into research at the NYU library, it had taken a couple of days before she had come across an article about New York City closing several public libraries around the beginning of the recession. After another day of sifting through public records from that period in the database, she had found a budget document that listed all of the buildings being offered for sale to the private sector. Another day had allowed her to narrow down the list to a half dozen viable options. She figured she was looking for a building that was owned by some sort of shell corporation or whose ownership had fallen through some sort of crack. Then she had narrowed the list further by looking for the buildings that hadn't been converted into some sort of hotel, event space, or condos. Last, she had eliminated any that were now office or business spaces for reputable companies or firms. That had left her with six candidates.

Charlie spent the next few days staking out and eliminating the first two on her list. The first had been the shell of an old records depository that was in the middle of active construction. The second had been a building for library back office and sorting operations that had been relocated to Long Island. It had been bought by a development company that had gone bankrupt. It was currently being used as a camp for the homeless. Hoping the third time would be the charm, Charlie had moved onto the abandoned library at East 30th and Lexington Ave. She had been intrigued by this location because it was the only one on her list that had truly fallen out of the public record. It had been bought by a bank and then the bank, ironically, had gone bankrupt. It looked abandoned and there was plastic clad scaffolding climbing half way up the façade. It was too bad; she could tell that under the scaffolding the building was a classical beauty. Tall and rectangular, the pilaster above the lower frieze rose three stories leading to a pediment with a circular window in the middle. Charlie had always loved the grand libraries in Europe and loathed that this old charmer was so run down. She was sure that this must be the base of their nefarious cabal. They killed people and had tried to steal from and extort a Czech gang, so the neglect of an historic building would be no matter to them.

Stretching in her seat, Charlie reached to take a sip of her coffee as she tucked the blond bangs from her wig behind her ear. She had been lucky to find a cute little Mediterranean restaurant and market with a window that looked across the street to the library. Checking her watch, she saw that it was now three in the afternoon and realized that she had been sitting here for five hours or so. Sighing she watched the people passing on the street in front of her. Some were doing the 'I'm very important' power walk. Some were anxious looking and shuffling along rapidly. A small percentage were taking advantage of the break in snow to enjoy a stroll, walking with children or pets. She wondered how many of them were happy or sad or stressed. Were any of them looking forward to getting home to their loved ones, or were they like her and only had an empty space waiting for them. Her heart ached a little with loneliness. Sighing again, she gave herself a mental shake. She didn't have time to feel lonely. She was on a mission.

Alerted by a soft ping from the laptop she had open in front of her, she checked her email and saw that Henry had sent her an invitation to join him and some of their old college friends for drinks at a bar in midtown that evening. Smiling, she sent back that she would love to. After all, that's what she was supposed to be in New York for. Besides, it was just the thing to pick up her spirits. Glancing back at the street, her breath caught as she saw a figure emerging from under the scaffolding of the building across the street. She couldn't believe it, but there was no doubt that the man was Harold Finch. He had on a chocolate colored homburg and an exquisite brown wool overcoat with its collar popped up to protect him from wind that had picked up. Still, his limp as he walked down the street leading a powerful looking dog was distinctive. Smiling, she felt a moment of elation. She had figured it out; she had tracked down their lair. Gathering up her belongings, she threw down a generous tip as she left her table, exiting the restaurant and heading to the nearest metro station. She didn't need to follow them anymore. Instead she had only to come back in the middle of the night and break in then bug the place and place a few cameras.

* * *

Sipping a beer and laughing, Charlie listened as Henry relayed the story of how he had to deal with his pain in the ass boss at the Museum in the fall out of the theft of the Cezanne. The tavern was warm and the atmosphere cozy with its wooden bar and earthy green cushioned booths; a welcome respite from the snow falling outside the window. Gesticulating wildly as he impersonated the head curators temper tantrum to her and their other two friends Tracy, bohemian and Latino, and Shane who was dressed in her usual outfit of sheath dress and killer heels. Tonight, she was wearing an emerald green version that somehow made her mocha skin glow in the soft light of the bar. You would never guess by the way they dressed that Tracy was actually the lawyer and Shane was the artist. Either way, they were getting a lot of attention from the single patrons of the bar they had all met at on 35th and 3rd near the theatre district.

"It's so good to see you again Charlie," Tracy said after Henry had finished. "I think the last time you were stateside was for your sister's funeral. I'm so sorry about Alicia by the way."

"Thanks Tray," Charlie answered softly. "I'm only here for a few more days for work then I plan on flying out to Colorado to see Joe and Krystal before I go back to Switzerland."

"How's your boring job with the UN going," Shane teased.

"It's not boring," Charlie laughed. "But it is a lot of paperwork. The logistics of trying to coordinate so many relief supplies is daunting. But luckily, they have me and I'm awesome."

"But still so humble," Henry laughed.

"What about you Shane," Charlie asked trying to steer the conversation back to her friends' lives. She didn't want them finding out the truth of why she was really in New York.

At 11, the four of them said goodbye to each other, promising, as one does, that they wouldn't let another three years pass before they all got together in the same city again. After hugging and kissing them, Charlie got into the waiting cab she had called, watching and waving out of the rear window. Sadness crept up on her as she coasted further and further away from them. They were all so vibrant and happy and light, and she was embroiled in some sort of conspiracy in the dark. She ached to go back to the days when she had thought she knew who her sister had really been, an analyst that worked for the State Department that was never involved in anything sinister. She remembered when she had first moved in with her sister when she was 18 and had started attending the University of Maryland. They had lived together for four years, how had she not known that Alicia was NSA? Hell, how had she failed to notice that Alicia didn't go to DC everyday but instead to Fort Meade? Thinking about Alicia made her even more somber. But no, she didn't have time to indulge herself with these feelings. _'Focus!' _she mentally chastised herself. _'Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Get angry. Stay on mission.'_

"How's your night been Jimmy?" she asked the cheerful cabbie who had jumped at the chance to help her again. He really was too cute.

"Good. My wife made me some Arroz con pollo. See?" He said, holding up a round Tupperware bowl with a chicken leg and bright, school bus yellow rice. She could smell the garlic, onion, peppers and cilantro that went into the sofrito and giving the rice its distinctive color. "Got some decent fares from people going to the plays this evening," he said as he put the lid back on the plastic bowl and then handing it back to her. "Here, this is for you. My wife wanted you to have some."

"Thanks Jimmy," Charlie said, touched.

"Don't mention it," he replied with a wave before launching into a humorous story about the loser his daughter was dating. He was a chatty cabbie.

It was Thursday night and the city was vibrant around her as Jimmy drove her back to Lexington Ave. Even in the snow, people seemed more than eager to be out and about. She hoped that it wasn't so busy around the library. Pulling up and parking about a block away after driving by and seeing that there was no light coming from the building, Charlie got out and put her hood up. She had worn all black to meet her friends and now she blended into the shadowed store fronts and buildings of the block. Giving Jimmy a little wave, she saw him giving her an encouraging thumbs up through the windshield and chuckled. She had told him that she thought her scumbag husband was using this job site for assignations with his secretary. He had just shaken his head and said something about "stupid gringo ceros" who didn't appreciate a good thing when they had it before launching into another story about his wife and children whom he obviously adored. She had felt a little prick of guilt: she hoped she wasn't putting this sweet, ebullient man at risk.

Walking to the spot where she had seen Finch emerging from earlier that day, she found a door hidden behind the plastic draping of the scaffolding. She hadn't seen any cameras on her initial scouting of the building, but she was still careful to keep her face hidden deep in her cowl. Sending up a silent thanks to her father, she made quick work of the lock and quickly moved inside and turned on her flashlight. Looking around the door, she found a discreet wire leading along the bottom of the stone wall to a security panel around a corner. Hurriedly getting out a screwdriver she popped the key pad away from the wall to get to the internal wire housing. Next she took out a little device to interrupt and override the alarm and clipped two little metal clamps to wires she stripped. She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until she let it out in a relieved whoosh as the little blinking light turned from red to green. While it had felt like an eternity, she had managed to do it in about thirty seconds. She leaned up against the wall to catch her breath and sent a silent thank you to her friend, Achmed, for his tutelage on how to get passed electronic security systems.

Achmed had been one of the many people who were displaced during the Arab Spring in North Africa. Charlie's first assignment with the UN had been to go out to Egypt to oversee the delivery of crucial supplies to the camps and had met him outside of Cairo. He had lost his home during one of the riots and, because he was an electrical engineer who had gone to school in the states, was volunteering as a translator for the UN and Red Cross workers. After a couple of weeks working with her, he had asked Charlie if she could help him get a visa to go live with some of his extended family in the states and she had been happy to oblige. Four years later, Achmed had been more than happy to return the favor.

Pushing off the wall, Charlie began to explore the building, careful to keep an eye out for cameras and other surveillance devices. Shockingly there was nothing except a padlock on a gate she had found after climbing the sweeping marble staircase to the second floor. Getting her lock pick back out, she opened it and pushed aside the accordion metal gate. Walking a short distance down a stone hallway, she found herself in what must have been a reading area that had been converted into a computer hub. Passing a quiet generator in the hallway she was unsurprised to see that all of the equipment was off. There were five or so monitors curved around half of a small circular table with an office chair set opposite them. On the floor was a dog bed next to the table and across from it there was a cracked glass display board. It was currently clear, but from some of the tacky impressions she assumed they usually had things taped to it. Glancing through a bureau against a wall she found folders that looked like case files. She would have to break back in to go through it more thoroughly but for now she had to set up the cameras and bugs and then get the hell out.

Half an hour later, she was exiting the library back onto the street and walking quickly to the waiting taxi. Jimmy smiled as she climbed back in and then turned up the heater. "So," he said. "Did it go well?"

"Perfect," she replied, shaking snow off her hood and hair.

"Good, now you can really nail that culo."

She just grinned widely back at him in the rear-view mirror as he pulled away from the curb.

* * *

Charlie was confused. The evil cabal that was John, Finch, and Shaw didn't act in a way that she had anticipated. The first couple of days that Charlie observed them in their lair, there wasn't much to observe. John and Shaw came in and out infrequently and Finch was not there at all. When Finch finally showed up, he arrived with a beautiful big and powerful dog who she was pretty sure was answering commands in Dutch. Finch cleared off pictures and documents relating to a pretty short haired blond lady from the glass display board. He played around on the computer and then took a call arranging to meet John and Shaw at Gantry Plaza State Park. When Finch and John came back later that afternoon, they discussed a man who had recently bested them. Charlie didn't understand much of the conversation and assumed that it was because she was not privy to the context.

The cabal was not there the next day and Charlie spent a long day at a Starbucks in Brooklyn staring at an empty room. Charlie had tried to use a different WIFI hot spot in different parts of the five boroughs each day. Seeing that the library remained empty all day, Charlie decided it might be a good time to break back in to inspect Finch's case files more thoroughly. So that night at around 9, she put on a blonde bob wig and what she was secretly calling her "breaking and entering outfit." It was a pair of dark skinny jeans, black booties, black turtleneck, black wool coat. Feeling sneaky just wearing it, she walked from her hotel near Gramercy Park up to the Library. It was a cold night and she had to walk quickly to stay warm, so it only took her about 15 minutes. _'No lights on in the building, no familiar people hanging about,'_ Charlie thought walked around the building, mentally checking off items on her B&E to do list, before breaking back in. After getting past the alarm and opening the padlock on the gate upstairs, Charlie embarked on a more thorough search of the library than she had had time to before. There were five floors and the top three didn't seem to get much traffic. There were some books on the third floor along with several cardboard file boxes. The fourth floor held row upon row of empty bookshelves. They were dusty and the atmosphere was both eerie and depressing. Reaching the fifth floor, she gasped as she emerged into a large room that was double height with a soaring peaked ceiling. There were windows all around the base of the room and two large circular windows most of the way up the walls on either end of the room. It must have been the main reading room because of the thirty or so long wooden tables in rows set at opposite angels to the wide central aisle. _'God, I wish I could stay here all night,'_ Charlie thought as she looked around the grand room illuminated in the moonlight. _'No,'_ she shook her head regretfully, _'I don't have time to walk around soaking in the atmosphere. I'm here for Alicia. I need to get back to that.'_

Back down stairs in Finch's office on the second floor, she started with the two big cork boards propped against the right wall and covered with numbers and red string and pictures. _'Nine numbers, separated by dashes into a group of three then two then four. Are these social security numbers?'_ There were articles about violent crimes that were next to some of them. Was Finch tracking these people for some reason? Were these more of his victims? Moving over to the bureau she started looking through the files in its drawers. They were all dated within the last six months. The one for Kelli Lin caught her eye. The file said her name had actually been Jiao and she had been an Olympic gymnast. She had a daughter and the Czech thugs had been holding her hostage to make her steal artifacts from all over the world. _'I don't understand. John and company were helping Kelli- Jiao- whatever the hell her name was?'_ The file indicated that Finch was sponsoring Jiao and her daughter's citizenship. _'Why? What the hell does he get out of this?'_

She found several more files like this; files that seemed to show that John and company were actually helping people. Going up to the third floor she started going through the file boxes. Here she found a few files where the person they focused on had ended up in prison. The person seemed to be a perpetrator of some kind but most of the files were for people that were victims in some way. Going back down to the office, she sat down in the office chair and stared at the elaborate computer setup. She was itching to start it up and poke around but she didn't want to turn on the generator and announce to the neighborhood that someone was home. _'Who knows was nasty security measures are lying dormant with the power off. I don't want to trip any of those,'_ Charlie thought to herself, regretfully spinning in the chair to gaze moodily at the cork boards instead. She hadn't found a file on her sister. She hadn't found evidence that they were thieves. She hadn't found evidence that they were in some sort of murder for hire business. All she had found was copious amounts of evidence that they might…actually… be good guys. This just frustrated her. _'Fuck this, they can't not be evil. Alicia said Finch was responsible for the murder of the man she loved, Nathan. None of this fits, none of it makes sense!'_ Getting up and making another pass through the library to make sure she had left everything the way she had found it, Charlie left. Locking up after herself and resetting the alarm, Charlie headed back to her hotel.

* * *

The next day, John and company were back at work trying to track someone named Cyrus Wells. It had been snowing when she got up that morning and she had wanted to stay under the heavy comforter, warm and cozy, but she dragged herself out of bed anyways. She had been headed to The Ace hotel in Midtown, enjoying the snow while cutting through Madison Square Park when she saw them. They were all three standing in the middle of the snow-covered allee ahead of her, speaking lowly and looking her way. Even the damn dog was there. It was so unexpected that she froze. _'What the fuck are they doing here at 7:35 AM?'_ she thought, starting to hyperventilate as John broke away from the group and headed directly towards her.

* * *

AN- Thanks everyone who has been reading the story so far!


	3. Chapter 3

_Previous Chapter:_

The next day, John and company were back at work trying to track someone named Cyrus Wells. It had been snowing when she got up that morning and she wanted to stay under the heavy comforter, warm and cozy, but she dragged herself out of bed anyway. She had been headed to The Ace hotel in Midtown, enjoying the snow while cutting through Madison Square Park when she saw them. They were all three standing in the middle of the snow-covered allee ahead of her, speaking lowly and looking her way. Even the damn dog was there. It was so unexpected that she froze. _'What the fuck are they doing here at 7:35 AM?'_ she thought, starting to hyperventilate as John broke away from the group and headed directly towards her.

* * *

Chapter 3

'_Calm Down!'_ Charlie chastised herself, forcing a deep breath in and trying to decide what to do as John came towards her from across the park. _'Just keep walking!' _she thought, desperately trying to get the message from her panicked brain to her legs. After an endless moment, she finally started moving again. _'They have no idea who you are. John can't be here for you,' _she told herself as she continued to walk slowly towards the exit of the park. _'Just act normal, they won't notice you.' _As John entered the round convergence where multiple curving paths of the park met, Charlie thought she might not be able to make herself go on. But then he veered to her right, heading deeper into the park. A feeling of relief flooded her and she almost fell to her knees as the adrenaline from here panic started to recede. Moving to a bench, she plopped down heavily, not even bothering to clear off the snow first.

Charlie got her breathing under control as the shock of the run in with John, Finch and Shaw started to wear off. She briefly thought about trying to follow Finch, the only member of the group she could still see, as he went on his way. _'Not worth it,' _she thought, shaking her head. She had learned that Finch liked to work out of the Library and keep open comm lines to the rest of the group. _'Better to just get to the hotel and start watching through my hidden camera.' _Staying on the bench as Finch disappeared, Charlie thought about the last month or so and analyzing her actions. _'What am I doing here,_' Charlie thought, closing her eyes and running her hands through her hair and gripping her head. _'I may have at least two family members who were spies, but I'm not!' _Frustrated with herself and the situation, how far she was in over her head, she unclenched her hands, pulling them down from her hair, and brought them to her mouth, where she huffed out warm breath to warm her finger tips. _'Come on Green! Stop having a pity party and get up and get on with the job! Alicia never quit. You owe this to her.' _Sighing, she got up and headed for the hotel.

* * *

Five minutes later, she was entering the coffee bar attached to the Ace Hotel. It was packed. Young professionals were getting coffee on their way to work. Others were looking for a warm place to get online like her. After getting a cappuccino and a chocolate croissant, she made her way into the lobby and found a comfy high back chair in a corner. Waiting for her laptop to boot up, Charlie took in the dim atmosphere around her. _'This place looks like a hipster paradise,_' Charlie thought as she signed in with her complicated 20 character password. _'I should be pretty anonymous here with all of these people._'

The next fourteen hours or so were pretty action packed. Charlie learned that John and company had been trying to save a janitor named Cyrus Wells who had been swept into the middle of a shadow war between an evil corporation and domestic terrorists. The poor guy had been through a lot and all because was good at his job. The interesting thing was that John and company made up the third arm of the not so loving triangle in the shadow war. She had no idea who Vigilance was, but Decima she recognized. That name appeared a few times in Alicia's journal. The conversation that held the most insightful information for Charlie didn't come until about 7:30 that evening after Cyrus had been kidnapped by Decima so that they could steal a superconducting processor from the NSA. There were two things about the conversation held between Harold and the willowy woman, Root, that intrigued Charlie. First, Harold talked about people in a way that implied he wanted to teach Root that everyone was relevant, that she should care. _'It doesn't match with the picture Alicia painted of this man who was involved in her murder, who she was following. But the way he's speaking about people, about caring for them, it matches with all those files I found. Is he just faking it? Did Alicia stumble on proof that he is some sort of evil mastermind? Am I wrong?' _Second was the way Root talked about something called "The Machine", as if it were alive, as if she worshipped it. She had heard mention of it before, but not like this. _'That has to be the thing Alicia was so afraid of in her journal. The thing that lead to her and Nathan's deaths. And Root and Harold are saying that he made it and taught it. What the hell is this thing? A machine that cares?' _Charlie wondered. As she mulled over Root's admission of guilt and asserting that she did care about people, a sudden chill went down her spine. _'Oh shit! Do they mean an AI? Like an actual, Stanley Fucking Kubrick fucking Artificial Intelligence!' _

Charlie stood up and paced in front of her chair a few times as she tried to get her head around her epiphany. As she paced, she scanned the room, there were cameras all over the lobby: the little round ones in the ceiling for hotel security, on people's laptops, in people's phones. They…it…whatever, could be watching her. _'Shit, no wonder Alicia went off the deep end and got so paranoid. I've only suspected for a couple of minutes and I feel like I'm being watched. God, I need a drink,' _Charlie decided and, stuffing her computer into her backpack, walked across the lobby to the hotel's restaurant and bar, The Breslin. The place was busy but she was able to get a spot in a corner. After ordering a lamb burger, two fingers of Bourbon, and their draft IPA, Charlie leaned back in her chair. _'This machine or whatever, can watch me eat and drink way more than I should.'_

* * *

Charlie woke with a groan. There were tiny jackhammers banging away inside her head, her mouth tasted sour and bitter and fuzzy, and her eyes were scratchy and sensitive to the little bit of light coming in from the overcast morning. Turning her head to look at the clock, she saw that it was 7:30 am. Even hungover, her body clock didn't let her sleep more than an hour past her normal wake up time. As she slowly sat up, she found that her stomach was reacting like she was in a whirligig. Catching sight of herself in the mirror on the opposite wall, she saw that her skin was pallid and her hair a tangled mess. In short, she looked and felt like death warmed over. _'I look like shit and I feel worse.'_

An hour later, after a hot shower, Alka-Seltzer, and two cups of hotel-room-brewed coffee, Charlie was feeling slightly better. After dressing warmly in a layer of long underwear, then fleece lined jeans, a heavy black sweater, insulated boots, and her black Canada Goose parka, Charlie braved the snow storm that was picking up outside to go a couple blocks over to a diner. She had found the place a couple mornings after relocating to her current hotel and found it had some of the best pancakes she'd ever had. Smiling at Carla, the morning shift waitress, Charlie ordered a light breakfast and a pot of tea, and asked for a pitcher of water. After her overindulgence the evening before, she was dehydrated and felt like she wanted to flush her body of all her bad choices.

The last thing Charlie had heard the night before on her bug was that John and Company had saved the janitor but lost the technology to Decima. Sitting in the restaurant, her mind had kept circling topics: artificial intelligence, shadow wars, Alicia, the mystery of John and company and if they were the good or the bad guys. As her thoughts had spiraled, she had just kept ordering more drinks. After her third Bourbon and second beer, Charlie had decided to head back to her hotel. Slightly tipsy, she had thought it was a good idea to stop at a liquor store on her way back and buy a bottle of Bullet. After that, things got hazy. All Charlie knew now was that she had drunk nearly half the bottle and eaten a whole pack of double stuffed Oreos at some point after returning to her hotel room. At some point she had also seemed to throw up her drink and cookies in the wastebasket next to the little desk in her room. She guessed she had thrown up most of what she had drunken and eaten by the volume of the mess in the waste bin as she had cleaned it out in the bathroom that morning. Just thinking about it made her feel nauseous all over again.

Taking a cleansing sip of mint tea, Charlie pushed her plate away and brought out her iPad. Logging into her TOR router and the diners WIFI, Charlie brought up the site her bug at the Library was recording to. It was about 9:10 am and she guessed that Finch would be in. At first, all Charlie could hear was a distant commotion and muffled exclamations. The muffled voices came closer and she recognized both John and Finch. Bringing up the feed from her camera, she saw the two men and their dog walking into the main work space from the direction of the stacks.

"…have Bear track down Ms. Shaw," Finch was saying.

"I thought you put her on the new number," John replied.

"I did, but communication is not her strong suit."

Just then, their computer speakers emitted a short static sound as Shaw came on the line. "Tally-ho, Finch," Shaw answered. "Our engineer's in sight."

The engineer that Shaw seemed to be surveilling could be heard then. "These turbine blades are missing a customs clearance," the engineer was telling someone.

Charlie's sound quality was not great as she was now listening to a daisy chain of listening devices: a bug recording a speaker phone call transmitting the recording of another bug. Still, something about the voice caught her attention. _'Where do I know that voice from?'_

"As soon as they get to Kenya, the locals will demand a bribe to clear them," the engineer went on. Charlie closed her eyes, blocking out all of the noise from the diner, and concentrated on the voice. "But, since we're out of time, call Benny at the Mombasa customs house. Tell him there's a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon with his name on it."

'_Benny in Mombasa? He's my contact! The only other person I know who bribes him with Kentucky Bourbon- no, it can't be-' _

"…Maria Martinez is quite the world traveler," Finch said.

'_They're following Maria! She's supposed to be in Iraq! What is she even doing in New York!'_

Struggling to concentrate despite her shock and concern, Charlie listened as Maria spoke to her boss, Ken, about generators going missing in Iraq and securing their supply chain before Maria excused herself to take a phone call. As John, Finch, and Shaw tuned into Maria's phone call, Charlie recognized another familiar voice, Jimal, the brother of Maria's boyfriend, Omar. _'What in the actual fuck is going on!'_ Charlie thought.

Charlie heard Shaw tell John and Finch that Maria was stealing a GPS tracker and then her worry hit new levels as John theorized that Maria was showing the signs of "pre-operational tactic" actions of a terrorist and that he was on his way to meet Shaw and follow Maria.

'_Oh God! I have to warn her!' _Charlie thought at she hurriedly packed her stuff and threw some money on the table before rushing outside to find a cab. The snow had slowed, but she still had to jog a couple of blocks before finding a cab, all the time questioning where she should go. Her lingering hangover did not make the short trip pleasant. _'Think!'_ she yelled at herself, struggling to keep down her breakfast._ 'What had Jimal said? To meet at the usual place in an hour?' _The only usual place Jimal was at this time of day was the little restaurant he, his wife, and his mother ran._ 'But where is it!'_

"Where to lady?" the cabbie asked after she had shut the door.

"Brooklyn."

* * *

So far, Charlie's day had been frustrating. After getting caught in traffic because of an accident on the bridge, she hadn't caught up with Maria and Jimal and had been one step behind everyone all day. Beside all that, the whole situation was both absurd and baffling. She knew Omar, he had been her interpreter before she introduced Maria and him. He was no terrorist, and she was concerned that he had been stopped by ICE at JFK. Even more troubling was that Maria saw Rene Lapointe as the enemy and was leaning on Christos Sevon. Rene was one of the best men Charlie had ever known, while Christos was a slimy bastard. She had always hated the few times she had had to work with his department because he always aggressively hit on her and supplies constantly went missing. She didn't trust him half as far as she could throw him. And then, to top it all off, the freaking French Foreign Legion had attacked Maria. She had surmised from the Shaw's updates of her position after Maria left the restaurant after confronting Rene, that Maria was headed home. She had been a couple of minutes behind everyone when she heard that Maria was being attacked in the elevator in her building. Very worried for her friend, she had broken into a run to reach the apartment and had just rounded the corner towards the front of her building when she saw two bodies fly out of a third story window and land on a car. Muffling a scream with her fist, Charlie had come to an abrupt halt, simply staring as one of the men climbed down off of the car and looked up at the broken window before giving a shrug to whoever was up there.

"Your boy there's got issues," she heard a man remark through her bug and had to agree. John did seem to have issues.

Backtracking quickly, Charlie had managed to get back around the corner before the man turned and started walking her way.

"We need to get Maria out of here. Where to, Finch?"

"The One Grand Central Place apartment."

'_One Grand Central Place? I thought that was all offices?'_

* * *

Following someone was much easier if you already knew where they were going. It also wasn't following, it was waiting. Charlie had managed to make it to One Grand Central Place before John and company because, she assumed, they had taken some sort of precaution to make sure they were not followed. She'd had time to have her cab circle the building a couple of times. She didn't think that Finch would want a property that required him to use an entrance under surveillance. On the third time around the block, she spotted an entrance in a recess on the East 41st street side of the building that seemed to be in a dead spot for surveillance. She was almost positive that this service entrance would be their route in.

After breaking into the building, she found that there was a service elevator directly inside but on inspection it only went to floor 10. Somehow, she figured that Finch would not be on the lower floors with some of the bigger businesses. Following a sign leading to a service corridor, she wandered around, careful to not be seen by anyone working in the building. As she headed towards the interior of the building, she found another elevator that went all the way to the top but required a security fob to get to the top 8 floors. _'If I were Finch, I would want to be on one of the private floors.'_ Deciding to play her hunch, she looked around for a place to hide. There wasn't any cover in the little area around the elevator, but she saw a storage room off the corridor leading to the elevator. Breaking into the room, she closed the door and listened. About 10 minutes later, she heard several footsteps walking past her door and then, a few moments later, the barely audible ding of the elevator. Cracking the door slightly, she was able to make out the group getting into the elevator. A quick glance showed her the tall form of John bringing up the rear of the group. Once the elevator doors closed, Charlie left the storage room and hurried back to the elevator. Watching the display, she saw that they stopped on the 66th floor. _'Great,'_ Charlie thought to herself, _'now all I have to do is find a way up there.'_

* * *

By the next day, she had almost given up on finding a way up to the 66th floor. She had been able to find other means to get to the 65th and the 67th floors and had tried to get to the 66th through different crawl spaces on each floor and had hit several dead ends. She also had not been able to access the floor through any of the stair wells she had found. And she hadn't been able to get past any of the panels for the security fobs. She would have used the tool Achmed had given her to clone the fob but so far, she couldn't see that anyone on the overnight cleaning crew had access to the floor. As a last-ditch effort, Charlie had found some spare janitorial uniforms, put one on, and had hidden out in the supply closet once the cleaning crew had left and was watching to see if anyone she didn't recognize came or went from the 66th floor and hoped maybe she could lift their fob. At around noon, she saw a cheerful man with dark features, receding hair line, and black, rectangular glasses, come down the corridor. He was carrying a package but was not wearing the uniform of a delivery driver. He was the first person Charlie had seen in over an hour and she had all but lost hope of getting upstairs. However, Charlie started to believe in miracles after he got onto the elevator and rode it to floor 66. _'Thank you, Jesus!' _Charlie thought jubilantly. Heading back into her storage room, she quickly changed back into her own clothes and hurried outside where she waited to follow the man once he came out of the building. As he exited about 15 minutes later, Charlie got a good look at the name patch on his shirt. _'Ok Mr. Trask, let's see if I can find a way to pickpocket you.'_

* * *

About 45 minutes later, Charlie was back in the building and headed to floor 66. _'What am I going to do, just knock on their door when I get up there? What if there are multiple doors?' _Charlie thought rather frantically to herself. She had honestly not thought she could make it this far and was now scrambling to come up with some semblance of a plan for how she was going to get her friend, Maria, away from these people. _'These highly trained, ninja-assassin-spy, people. Fucking A, I am in over my head.'_ All too soon, there was a soft ding and the elevator doors opened onto a hallway with a polished stone floor and grass cloth and abstract colorful paintings on the walls. Stepping cautiously off the elevator, avoiding its camera and not seeing any ahead, she moved carefully down the hall until she saw a large, steel door inset in the right wall. Examining the door, she saw that it was not opened by a lock but an electronic pad that looked to require both a code and a full hand print. _'Well, crap. What am I supposed to do now?'_ Before she had a chance to answer her own question, the door suddenly flew open.

"Maria?!" she exclaimed. Maria looked just as shocked as Charlie felt as they both froze on either side of the door, looking at each other. Seeing movement behind Maria, Charlie saw Shaw running into the room. "Maria, move!" Charlie yelled as Shaw charged towards them.

Charlie's shout seemed to spur Maria back into action and she jumped through the door before spinning to close it behind her before Shaw could reach them. Turning back to Charlie, Maria threw her arms around her and gave her a quick hug. "I overrode the electronic magnet locking the door, she won't be able to follow us for a bit. What are you doing here Ch-"

"No time! Let's get the hell outa here," Charlie interrupted and started jogging towards the elevator, grasping Maria's hand and pulling her along. "We have to get out of here. I've been following these people who took you for a while now. I'm so glad you managed to get away," she said, squeezing Maria's hand and then letting go as they stepped into the elevator and she pushed the button for the lobby, carefully angling her face down and away from the camera in the control panel and the top left corner.

"Why are you following them?"

"I can't tell you," she whispered, shifting to face away from both cameras, moving Maria to stand in front of her. "Look Maria, I know Rene. I've worked closely with him for the last three years and I just can't believe that he's involved in this. Let me talk to him. Please."

"I don't know, I think he's working with my boss, Davis. He forged a letter from the Iraqi government that Lapointe is using as evidence proving Omar is a terrorist! They're trying to kill Omar to cover up the theft of six generators. I have to stop them! I have to get that forged letter!"

The elevator doors opened and they rushed out of the building, managing to grab a cab at the corner. After telling the cabbie to take them to the UN compound, Charlie turned back to Maria. "Listen," she continued in an urgent whisper. "Let me talk to my Iraqi contacts first-"

"We don't have time! Omar is being deported now!"

"Fine," Charlie snapped, running her hands through her hair in frustration. _'What am I going to do!'_ "Ok, I think I have an idea."

* * *

Hello! Thank you for reading and following my story. Next chapter, John and Finch learn about Charlie and we learn how she is involved with Rene Lapointe. Cheers!


	4. Chapter 4

_Previous Chapter: _Maria has just escaped and she and Charlie are rushing to leave the building before they can be followed. Maria is in a rush to save Omar and Charlie is trying to convince her that Rene Lapointe is not the bad guy.

_The elevator doors opened and they rushed out of the building, managing to grab a cab at the corner. After telling the cabbie to take them to the UN compound, Charlie turned back to Maria. "Listen," she continued in an urgent whisper. "Let me talk to my Iraqi contacts first-"_

"_We don't have time! Omar is being deported now!"_

"_Fine," Charlie snapped, running her hands through her hair in frustration. 'What am I going to do!' "Ok, I think I have an idea."_

* * *

Chapter 4

"Charlie! Bonsoir mon amie! Comment allez-vous?" Rene greeted her, kissing both her cheeks before standing back, hands on her shoulders.

"Je vais bien," Charlie replied warmly, smiling up at him. She had been in awe of Rene when she had first started working with him. She had made a name for herself in her first year at the UN working in the DFS, and had been transferred to UNHCR after Rene had read a report she created on the preparedness level and supply chain reliability of three different departments. She had been maybe a little critical of his department and he, after getting past her blunt way of stating things, had offered her a job helping firm up his logistics department. They had worked well together ever since. "Rene, je dois parler avec vous. But I am also cold, can we go somewhere and get some tea?"

"Oui, viens," he said, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow and leading her across the lobby towards the elevators. "I am so glad you have come to see me. I was sad that you were taking a sabbatical. Can you tell me now the real reason that you had to leave?"

"I told you before Rene, I just needed time off. I was just starting to get run down."

"Non Charlie, it is not so easy to lie to me in person as it is over Skype. I told you to take more time off after your sister's death. I see that sorrow in you now that you were able to hide for so long. It is just under the surface now."

"Rene-"

"Non," he said leading her off the elevator and down a hall towards an executive dining room, "I will not press anymore. I know, even if you will not tell me. You were never able to hide from me were you."

Charlie blushed. When she had first started working with him, she'd had such a crush on Rene, along with most of the other women in the department. It was hard not to; he was handsome and worldly and kind. He noticed things and people and had a way of drawing you to him. And he had been attracted to her too. For about a year they'd had an affair. Whenever he was in Geneva, she was in New York, or when they could go on holiday, they would be together.

He had been her first real lover. She'd had boyfriends in college and grad school but no one like him. Even the light touch on her back as he led her to a table in the corner and the soft caress on her shoulders as he seated her and then sat himself reminded her. The things that he had shown Charlie her body was capable of made her hyper aware of him. But after her sister had died, she had withdrawn from everyone, throwing herself into her work and taking on more duties in the field. Rene had understood. What had been between them had changed to a deeper friendship and caring and she was grateful for the support he had given her and that he had made the transition so easy for her. It was why she trusted him now.

"Rene, I'm here about Maria Martinez."

"Ms. Martinez!" Rene stated, surprise evident.

"Yes, I hear she has been quite the thorn in your side today," Charlie replied with a little mirth before turning serious again. Lowering her voice, she leaned towards him. "But I need your help. She managed to get a copy of the letter you have stating that Omar Risha has ties to terrorism. We think it was faked, by Ken Davies."

Rene sat back, stunned at the quick turn in the conversation. "I know this is hard to believe-"

"Oui, what reason could he have to do this! It is impossible."

"We think it has something to do with six hydroelectric generators that went missing in Iraq. We think that Omar can tie the disappearance to Davies and whoever he was selling them to on the black market."

"It seems incredible that this could be true," Rene said rubbing a hand across his forehead. Charlie recognized this as a sign that he was troubled and trying to decide something.

"Charlie," he said softly, leaning across the table and holding both of her hands between his. "Etes-vous sur?"

"Yes," she replied softly, gazing steadily into his probing stare. He seemed to be coming to a decision when suddenly an alarm started to sound. He sprang up from the table and went to a phone near the front, dialing quickly before barking an order for information. Gathering her things quickly, Charlie hurried across the room to him. "Ce qui se passé?" Charlie asked as she saw people streaming past in the corridor, heading for the stairs at the end of the hall.

"Security says there may be a fire in a corridor a few floors below us and wants everyone to begin to evacuate. I have to go Charlie, there is something that I must get from my office."

"I'll go with you," Charlie said, grabbing his arm as he turned to go.

"Non!" he stated emphatically. "My office is across the compound. I want you to evacuate now."

"But-"

"No Charlie," he interrupted, pulling her into a firm embrace and kissing her swiftly. "You evacuate and I will meet you outside, ma cherie." Then he gave her another, soft lingering kiss, before smiling down at her and then hurrying away.

She felt dread as she watched him disappear around a corner before joining the crowd headed for the exit.

* * *

"Charlie I am so sorry," Maria said again, squeezing her hand. It had been three days since Rene's death and she still could not believe it. He had been alive and vibrant one moment, his kiss lingering on her lips, and gone the next. Charlie had been stunned when she had found out that night that Christos Sevon had murdered Rene. She had been in a haze ever since.

She had reached out to Maria that morning and she had agreed to meet her that evening at the Waters Edge Restaurant an hour before she was supposed to meet Omar. Charlie had stood, leaning against the balcony, and gazed unseeing across the river at the New York City Skyline as Maria told her what had happened. '_Why did he have to go back to his office? I should have stopped him_,' she thought, her knuckles going white from gripping the railing. When she had finished recounting the events, Maria laid her hand over Charlie's and stood with her, silent at the balcony.

"I didn't tell them about you," Maria said softly. "But I think they will be looking for you now."

Charlie made a non-committal noise in reply, shivering as the wind suddenly swooped up off the East River. "What will you do now?" Maria asked.

"Remember Rene. See if there's anything I can do to get Sevon's immunity stripped, continue my work here. Just go on I suppose."

"No matter what happens, I doubt my new friends will be letting something like diplomatic immunity stop them from getting justice."

Charlie pulled her hand out from under Maria's hand and stepped away, turning around to face the restaurant. "If it hadn't been for your friends Rene wouldn't be dead at all."

"I'm sorry Charlie, it was all my fault, if I hadn't trusted Sev-"

"No," Charlie sighed, turning back to Maria. "I'm sorry. You were doing what you had to save someone you loved. Don't apologize for that. Really Maria," Charlie said, stepping back and taking Maria's hand again, "I don't blame you. This is Sevon's fault really. He was the one that pulled the trigger. Please don't think this was your fault. You are about to start a new life with a man you love. You are both safe, that's what matters."

They looked at each other, measuring. Charlie shook her guilt and sorrow off and managed to force a small smile. "Go," she said, squeezing then releasing Maria's hand. "Omar will be here soon. Besides, I need to be going. It was good to see you Maria, take care."

Maria gave her a watery smile, then surprised her with a quick hug, and was gone, heading inside to compose herself. Maria had told her that one of her new friends would be dropping Omar off there. Maria had had to give a statement at her corporation's headquarters while Omar was being officially released that afternoon. Charlie knew she should go, but lingered at the balcony anyway, taking in the view for the first time that night. _'Rene would have liked this,'_ Charlie thought.

"I'm sorry, mon cheri," Charlie whispered to the river. "Where I am going now, you cannot follow. I must let you go. I cannot carry the sorrow I have at your loss and continue with what I have to do. Bonsoir darling. I hope to see you again in the next life." Whipping tears from her cheeks, she let out a deep breath. Mentally, she wrapped all her beautiful memories of Rene together and imagined them sinking beneath the inky surface of the river, letting the weight drop from her shoulders beneath the waves as well. Giving the beautiful view one last glance, Charlie turned away, resolute in her path once again.

* * *

John came awake suddenly and completely at the sound of his phone ringing and vibrating against his bed side table. Sitting up, he flipped the switch on the brick wall next to his wooden headboard. The large room came into view and he did a quick visual check of his sparsely furnished surroundings before answering the phone. "Finch, its 4 am."

"Yes Mr. Reese, but we have a problem. The library has been compromised and we have a new number."

"Who?" John asked, meaning both the threat and the assignment.

"The woman who has been following us, we finally have a name."

* * *

They were on to her. Charlie had no idea how they had tracked her down but she knew they had when she turned the corner of 3rd onto East 17th on Saturday morning and saw John and the beautiful Persian lady, Shaw, going into her hotel. _'Shit'_ she thought as she quickly turned around and crossed the street to duck into the Gramercy Café on the corner. Settling into a table in the corner Charlie ordered herbal tea as she slipped on her earphones and switched on the app on her phone to be able to hear what was going on in her hotel room. Charlie smiled at the waitress as she set down a mug, small pot of steaming water, and a little basket with their variety of teas. As the waitress was walking away, she could hear someone opening the door to her room and voices continuing a conversation they had been having in the hall.

"-take me to the nicest places Reese," a female voice could be heard. That had to be Shaw. "So, who is this chick?"

"Charlotte Green. She goes by Charlie and works for the UN as a supply chain manager for North Africa and lives in Geneva. She's the one who was with Maria Martinez when Maria escaped the apartment. We're also pretty sure she's the one who approached Carter about the Alicia Corwin case and bugged Finch at the Museum," John replied as he rummaged through what sounded like her closet. _'They don't know that I got into the library yet. Good," _Charlie thought.

"So why is she all up in our business? What's her connection to the Corwin case? Is she another Root trying to sniff out the Machine?"

"No. She's been looking into the Corwin case because Alicia is her step sister. Finch never knew she had family because she managed to hide it pretty well from the government. Charlotte's dad died when she was a baby and then her mom remarried Alicia's father. He was Army Intelligence, so between whatever trade craft he passed on and what Alicia taught her after being in the NSA, she's been doing a pretty good job of flying under the radar."

"Is she government?"

"Not as far as Finch can tell. But it would be a good NOC. She has access to a lot of international diplomats and does a lot of travel."

"Reese, come look at this," Shaw said, her voice sounding muffled. There was the sound of rustling paper and Charlie knew they must have found the copy of Alicia's police and coroner's report. After she had downloaded Detective Carters hard drive and key strokes, she had gone to the nearest copy place she could find and had printed out the report. "Guess she got what she wanted from Carter."

"Hey, I found her laptop," John said and Charlie heard the sound of her nightstand being moved. _'These fuckers!"_ Charlie thought. Now she was going to have to shell out over a grand to replace it. At least she had made sure to back up everything relevant and wipe it that morning when she left. Achmed had said that any data on the computer could be restored but only by someone with a lot of skill and a very powerful decryption program but that it would take time so she wasn't too worried.

"And what have we here," Charlie heard Shaw saying before there was a weird rustling, rubbing noise. _'Well crap,"_ Charlie thought. She was pretty sure they had just found her bug. Throwing a $10 bill down on the table she left quickly. Once out on the street, she entered the code Achmed had given her that would wipe he phone before she dropped it onto the ground, stamped it with the heel of her black leather booties and then kicked it into a storm drain. Hurrying towards Union Square metro station, she checked to see if anyone was following her in the shiny surface of a hotdog stand and the reflections of shop windows, but didn't see anything. She needed to get clear of the area fast and then find somewhere to stay for the night before deciding on her next move.

* * *

That afternoon she sat in a Starbucks she had found when she had gotten off the subway near Madison Square Park. Sipping her tea, she took advantage of the free WIFI to watch what was happening at the Library from her iPad. They were talking about her. After finding the bug in her hotel room that looked identical to the one they had found on Finch and Detective Carter, they had realized that they couldn't stake out her hotel because she probably wouldn't come back. So, they had stolen her stuff and taken it back to the library.

Finch, the bastard, had then proceeded to debrief them on everything he had found out about her life. She was angry, _'the only thing missing from that damn report is who my first crush was and when I'd lost my virginity.'_ She felt so exposed and violated as they poured over the details of her life. Still it seemed like karma was biting her in the ass since she had been following and spying on them first. Still, it was uncomfortable to be dissected by Finch. Finally, they had moved on to discussing strategy. Because she had been following them, they were going to be staying at different hotels around town for the next couple of days until they could find her. As John and Shaw left, she could hear Harold making a reservation for himself at The Coronet.

"Yes Suite 1125 will be fine," he answered to whoever was on the other end of the call. "Reservation under Harold Wren. Yes, check in after 7 please. Thank you."

Pulling her earbuds out she sat back, smiling. _'They might be on to me but now I know where Harold is going to be tonight.'_ This might be her only opportunity to get answers. She had wanted to gather more information on Harold and his operation from afar before getting close, but now she felt as if events were outpacing her. They could find her tomorrow no matter that she was being careful. Deciding that she really only had one viable option left if she wanted to find out if this man had really murdered her sister, pulled out the disposable phone she had picked up at a bodega and made herself a reservation for The Coronet.

* * *

Charlie sat wearing a long-sleeved, black jersey wrap dress and a plain pair of black pumps at a couch in The Coronet's lobby and sipped a delightfully full-bodied Cabernet Sauvignon from California. Resisting the urge to smooth the long side swept bang from her blond wig out of her face, Charlie casually perused a copy of the Wall Street Journal as she waited for Harold to arrive and check in.

After deciding on a course of action that afternoon, Charlie had hurried around the city, running several errands in an effort to get to the hotel before Harold. She had gone shopping and picked up, among other things, a new set of heels and a dress since most of her clothes were now in the possession of John and company. She was especially mad that they had taken her new favorite heels, the black suede Ferragamo's. Then she had bought as small metal rolling suitcase, because she didn't think it would look inconspicuous to show up in a nice outfit and only a beat up old backpack for luggage. Next she had gone to see Achmed and he had given her a device to spoof keycards as well as a device that, when attached to a tiny camera at the end of a fiber optic cable, would allow her to see under a door or through an air vent. Last she stopped at the bank. When she had first been tipped off that Alicia had been deliberately murdered instead of dying in a robbery gone bad, she had been given directions to a safe deposit box in at a private bank in Geneva. When she had gone into the branch and given her name she was instantly shown in and told that the box had been purchased for a term of 20 years and that her name was listed on the account as well as that of an alias of her sisters. She had given them the 15 digit code she had been provided by the mysterious tipster and was shown to a private viewing booth. Among the many things inside, there had been a list of addresses in major cities paired with strings of numbers tucked into a passport that had Charlie's picture in it under the name of Alexandra Harris. When she had arrived, she had gone to the address for New York and had found a bank and had decided to try out her theory that the addresses were for other boxes. The Alexandra Harris passport had gotten her access to another safe deposit box. Inside she had found $50,000 in cash, a gun, passports and drivers licenses for Alicia and herself in a variety of aliases, and notes on her surveillance of Harold Finch in connection to something she called Northern Lights. She wrote that they were killing everyone and it was Harold's fault.

Earlier that afternoon she had visited the bank again and deposited everything from her back pack that she didn't absolutely need for that night. She didn't want John and company getting a hold of the Alexandra Harris passport, her iPad, and her notes. The bank manager assured her that now that she was in their system, as long as she had the account number and her thumbs, she didn't need to show ID to get in to the box. Thanking him, she had gone into their bathroom and changed into her new outfit and the blonde wig before applying some makeup. Stuffing everything into her new suitcase, she left the bank and took a cab to the hotel. She had arrived and been checked in by 5. What had been even better was that she was able to spoof one of the maid's key cards when they rode down to the lobby together. Everything was going well so far.

At exactly 7:05 Harold "Wren" limped his way through the door. He was wearing a midnight blue wool overcoat with a red striped shirt and a green highland plaid vest. The outfit shouldn't have worked but somehow the smug jackass pulled it off. It just made her hate him even more. He checked in and had the bell hop take up his bag. After he had climbed into the elevator, she waited ten minutes before heading up herself and went into her room next door and ordered room service for dinner. And then she waited.

By 10 pm she was ready. She had changed back into her jeans, booties and a clingy black turtleneck. She wasn't wearing a wig or colored contacts now. She was going to confront the bastard as herself. As she tucked the .9 mil she had found in her sister's deposit box into the holster nestled in the small of her back, she vowed that she was finally going to get some answers.

Pulling a chair over to the vent on the wall she shared with Harold next door, she turned on the monitor attached to the tiny camera at the end of the fiberoptic cable she had gotten from Achmed and then began to fish it through the slats. With some careful adjusting she was able to fish it through to the other vent without bumping it and making a lot of noise. Angling the camera around she could see that the room next to hers was the little living room for Harold's suite. There was no one in there but she could see shadowed movement coming from the bedroom beyond. Carefully pulling the cable back out through the slats, Charlie stepped down from the chair and threw on a black fleece vest to cover the gun at her back. Grabbing the all access key card from a side table she opened her door a crack to peek down the hallway. Sticking her head out, she checked the other direction and saw that the coast was clear. Emerging the rest of the way, she closed her door softly and walked over to suite 1125.

'_You can do this. For Alicia, you can,'_ she thought while taking a deep breath. Her palms were sweating and she felt nauseous. But adrenaline was coursing through her and she knew she was as ready as she ever would be for this confrontation. Looking around one last time, she drew her weapon and slipped the key card into the lock, hand shaking slightly, and opened the door. Entering quickly, she closed the door as softly as she could behind her. Checking around the softly illuminated sitting room, she saw that it was empty. Walking softly to the door for the bedroom, she took one last deep breath. _'Now or never,' _she told herself before slowly opening the door to the bedroom and peeking in. Immediately she knew it was a trap. Standing next to the window, holding a gun aimed at the door, was John.

She didn't know how she managed to move so fast when panic was setting in. They had been waiting for her and now, unless she got out quickly, they were going to kill her just like they had probably killed her sister. Dashing for the door, she whipped it open and managed to knock a table over on her way out in a desperate bid to stop the looming figure behind her that she felt closing on her fast. It worked and gave her an advantage of a couple of seconds which was enough to get out. Her heart was pounding and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears as she ran, re-holstering her gun before grabbing at the molding on the wall where the hallway dead ended into another and swung herself around the corner. It was another long hallway, but she sprinted towards the elevator at the end of it, her arms pumping, feet softly pounding on the carped. As she was coming to the end, the elevator dinged and opened, and she had to push past a couple disembarking but was able to get in and push the button to the lobby. She looked up and watched through the closing doors as John ran towards her. Even as the doors continued to close too slowly, she knew John wouldn't make it. She was already moving when she heard something slam against the outer elevator door, making her jump. _'Oh God! I can't believe I got out!' _Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and sent up a silent prayer that her father had encouraged her to go out for track and that her specialty had been the 100-yard dash. She was sure all that had saved her was the innate muscle memory of how to make her body explode into short bursts of speed.

But no, something was wrong. Her head snapped up to look at the elevators display and her stomach plummeted. _'I'm not going down!'_ The floor read out on the elevator control panel showed her that she had not descended from floor 11 to 10, but rather that she was now passing floor 12 on her way to 13._ 'I'm moving up!'_ As the elevator coasted to a stop and the doors opened, she pushed herself off and burst back through the doors, past another group of people, looking for the stairs. Opening the door to the stairway she started to run down when she saw over the railing John coming up to her. She couldn't even think through the panic chocking her now as she quickly turned and bounded back up the way she'd come. _'Run, run, run!' _ Charlie was screaming to herself, breath coming out in pants now. Passing the door to the thirteenth floor she just kept running up the stairs until she burst through a door to the roof. Looking around frantically for someplace to hide, she heard the harsh scrape of the door opening again and whipped around, drawing her weapon as she did. It was too late though; he already had his out.

'_This is it,'_ she thought, dread and acceptance filling her mind. Now, she knew, she was dead.

* * *

Dun-Dun-Dun

Thanks everyone for reading! Let me know what you think so far.


	5. Chapter 5

John couldn't believe how fast this woman was. Like a bolt, she was off as soon she glimpsed him in the darkened bedroom of Harold's suite. He leaped up and over the bed on his way to the door, seeing her whip around the corner of the suites entrance and knocking a table over as she left. Dragging the table out of the way he threw open the door and burst into the hallway but she was gone.

"Which way Finch," John asked.

"To the elevators Mr. Reese," came the answer in his ear and John was off. Turning the corner, he was going too fast and slammed into the opposite wall. Pushing off from the wall and ignoring the brief pain in his shoulder, he began sprinting again. At the end of the hallway, he saw a disgruntled looking couple and beyond them Ms. Green in the elevator. He knew as the doors began to close that he would be too late, but he sprinted towards them anyways. As he reached them, he punched the call button but it was too late. Pounding a fist against the closed doors, he spun and ran towards the stairs.

John had raced down a floor before Finch spoke up in his ear again. "Mr. Reese, turn around. She went up to 13 instead of down." Quickly turning, he bounded his way back up the stairs, two at a time. Half way between 12 and 13 he saw Ms. Green burst into the stairway herself. She looked wild, panic emanating from her too wide eyes. Turning she put on another burst of speed and sprinted up to the roof. _'She's trapped herself,'_ John thought, satisfied. Now he would get some answers.

With a god awful screech, he pushed the door open to the roof and emerged, gun first to see the woman he had been chasing raising a gun towards him. They stood there, guns pointed at each other, not moving except for the rapid rise and fall of their chests as they caught their breath. Getting a good look at her for the first time, he sized her up. Unless she got a shot off before him, he didn't think she would be much of a threat. She was shorter than Shaw with a slim build. She looked athletic, but not particularly strong. Although, he wouldn't have expected the kind of speed she had already shown, so he could be wrong. What he was absolutely sure of now, looking at her as the wind stirred her long mahogany curls around her face and carried her scent, cool water and moonlit jasmine, to him, was that she was not a trained agent. Finch had been right; whatever trade craft skills she had must have been taught to her by her stepfather and sister. Still, the cornered animal look in her eyes meant that she could be dangerous if he didn't handle her carefully.

Stepping further onto the roof, Ms. Green kept her distance by retreating an equal amount, staying out of arms reach. "Why are you following us?" John asked, trying to distract her.

"Alicia Corwin," she said, "I want to know how she really died. I want to know if Harold, or you, killed her."

"Harold?" John said, some of his surprise leaking into his normally stoic tone, "You think Harold killed Alicia?"

"I found notes Alicia had kept before her death and they said she was following a lead to discover the man behind the murder of Nathan Ingram and several others," she answered and John could see her arms start to tremble from the effort of keeping the gun up and pointed at him.

"I'm sorry for your loss-" John started.

"Sorry for my loss?" Ms. Green breathed out, incredulously. He could see the panic receding from her eyes to be replaced by anger. "That's bullshit. Alicia used to be vibrant and beautiful and a force of nature. Then something happened and suddenly she was withdrawn, stressed, and paranoid. I didn't understand what was happening at the time. And then they told me she was dead, had been killed in a drug buy gone bad. I thought it was my fault. That I had been a bad sister. Maybe I could have been there more for her when she lost her job at the State Department and moved to the back side of West Virginia. Never mind that she wasn't depressed or that she actually worked for the NSA. Never mind that she was frightened and alone-," her voice began to break. John heard her clear her throat and saw her knuckles whiten around the grip of her gun.

"I really am sorry," he answered softly. "I know what it's like to lose someone that you love. But this," he said gesturing to her gun, "isn't the answer. What makes you so sure that all of this leads back to Harold? What actual proof do you have that makes you think we were even involved?"

"Because she was looking for the man behind Northern Lights, and Ernest Thornhill told me that Harold Finch created it," she ground out. She cocked the gun and stepped slightly closer, still making sure to stay more than an arm's length away. "Stop stalling. Answer my question. Did you or Harold kill my sister!"

He was stunned. The Machine had told her about Northern Lights and Harold? "No," John said, lowering and holstering his gun. "We didn't kill your sister." He needed to gain her trust, quickly. He could see now that they had been given her number to protect her, not stop her. If she was in this deep, it wasn't just about getting her to stop following them around. She would be on the ISA's radar soon. He had to get her to somewhere safe so he could explain. "But Harold was there. If you come with me, I'll take you to see him and he can tell you what really happened that day."

She didn't lower the gun, but he could see that her resolve was wavering. Emotions were warring in her beautiful emerald eyes, so expressive and evocative with the hints of blue hidden in their depths. "Please, Ms. Green. Charlie," he softly begged, trying to imbue sincerity and truthfulness into the words. "Believe me." She gave him one last searching look and with a wary and uncertain look, began to lower her gun.

Sighing in relief, he began to step towards her and was stopped by the sudden voice in his ear. "Mr. Reese! Get out now, there is a team headed up to you and Ms. Green!" But it was too late. The stairway door burst open and men in tactical gear poured out onto the roof, yelling for them to drop their weapons, put their hands behind their heads, and get on the ground. Charlie was frozen, and when she didn't respond fast enough, John watched helpless as one of the men hit her with the butt of his rifle, rendering her unconscious. John leapt up to catch her as she began to crumple to the ground, only to have someone else kick the back of his knee, forcing him back down.

"Eagle Six, to Alpha. Package secure, send in air extraction," one of the men yelled and moments later the spot light of a helicopter was shining down on the roof top. "Eagle Six to Alpha, we apprehended a female unsub at the scene. Instructions? Roger that, will bring her." Then John was being shoved towards the now landed helicopter.

"Ms. Shaw and I will find you both," he heard Finch promise in his ear as he was pushed into a seat, his hands bound with black zip ties. He tried not to wince as he was injected in the neck with what he supposed was a sedative. The last thing he saw as he lost consciousness was Charlie, thrown over some agent's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, being tossed onto the floor of the helicopter as the rest of the men loaded in around her.

"We will find you John. Hold on."

* * *

Hello everyone! Something of a shorter chapter for you this time, but it was sort of where the natural break was. Hope everyone had a good weekend. If you are a 49er fan like me, you have my sympathies. Cheers!


	6. Chapter 6

POI Chapter 6

Charlie didn't know how long she had been held prisoner. She hadn't been that sure how long she had been unconscious when she'd woken up with no shoes, no belt and her fleece vest gone. Still, since then time had begun to mean very little. She could have been there only a few hours, a day, or infinity.

It had started mundanely enough. Endless questions in a dark room with a disembodied, monotonous voice. How did she know John? Why was she involved with him? Why had she been on the roof with a gun? Why was she in New York to begin with? They just kept coming from the relentless voice. At first she had been willing to answer some of their questions. She said she was Cecila Cole and that she was in town as a tourist. Trying to remember everything that Alicia had written about the ID she had taken from the bank, she told them that she was an administrator for a small company in Colorado. Charlie said she had never met John before and had a gun for safety because of an aggressive ex-boyfriend. She was on the roof because she thought John was stealing from the room next to her and she had been attempting to make a citizen's arrest. She knew the bull shit she was spinning as fast as possible wasn't going to hold up but she was hoping that the trained killer she had been brought in with would figure out a way to escape before these people figured out who she really was. She feigned ignorance about the rest of the questions she knew answers to and didn't have to pretend for the majority of the others. She demanded to know why she was being held and that she had the right to legal counsel, though she knew this would do no good. She told them she didn't know anything else. Over and over again she told them. After what felt like hours she just stopped answering and tried to shut it all out. Men came in then and shoved a hood over her head and lead her to a cell. She had tried sleeping, she was exhausted after weeks of little sleep and hiding. Every time she drifted off though, bright lights would start flashing and piercing electronic sirens would blare.

The interrogations stepped up after that: endless badgering from the voice in the dark little room accompanied by interludes of the lights and noises. After the initial interrogation, she stayed silent and just tried to imagine that she was somewhere else. Charlie was surprised that the voice still didn't seem to know who she really was. Surely, they had run her fingerprints by now. She didn't know how long the questioning and the noises went on but, the voice must have gotten frustrated, because suddenly the men with the hood were back and she was being led away into another room. When the hood was lifted she saw that it was large and unbearably bright after the darkness of the interrogation room. They bound her hands behind her back as a third man entered the room.

"I hear you are being a difficult little thing," the new man said cheerfully. He was larger than the other two, and older with light brown curly hair and massive shoulders that rippled with muscle as he took off his suit jacket. Laying the jacket over the back of a metal chair, he tucked the chair into a matching table to one side of the room before coming to stand in front of Charlie. "That means now you and I are going to have fun."

"Please," she begged, starting to tremble as the other two men led her to a tank filled with icy water in a far corner of the room. Pushed sharply down, her knees hurt from the sudden impact with the unrelenting and cold concrete floor as she was forced to kneel. "I've told you everything I know. Please."

"Oh I doubt that. You see, you and I are about to spend some quality time together, to get to know one another. When you tell me things I want to know, I will reward you. When you lie to me and break my trust, I will have to encourage you to be more open and honest. Honesty really is the basis of a successful relationship you know. Now, why were you really on the roof with Reese?"

And the questions started again. She gave the same answers as before. She was a tourist from Colorado. She didn't know John and had simply been trying to stop someone she thought was a thief. "Please, that's all I kno-" she started before the man gave a signal and the other two forced her head into the icy water.

"Now what did I tell you about lying to me," he asked after the other two had hauled her, coughing and gasping back out of the water. "Let's change tack. We heard you mention Northern Lights on the roof to John. What do you know about Northern Lights?"

"Nothin-" she breathlessly tried to answer before he had her shoved back into the water.

It went on for what felt like hours. Again she had retreated into silence for her answers, but she couldn't stop the sobbing, coughing, and retching as her upper body was repeatedly submerged into the frigid water. She struggled and screamed into the water but it did no good. They just started submerging her for longer periods. Her lungs were on fire. Her body ached from trying to hold her breath and instead inhaling cold water, stabbing like icy knives on the way down to her lungs. Then it burned. Her existence narrowed to just coldness, pain, and the fight for breath. She didn't know why she wasn't just telling them everything that she knew. Part of her, the stubborn little voice that had always gotten her into trouble, just kept screaming that she couldn't. She didn't know what any of the half-truths that she had uncovered really meant yet, but she just kept hearing Alicia's voice warning her that knowledge could be dangerous. She didn't want her torturers to have that kind of power over her, as useless a gesture as that was.

She came back to herself laying on the floor, wet and convulsing from the fight to breath past the dry heaves and gulping sobs. The fog was lifting from her mind and she realized that they were letting her just lie there and catch her breath while they talked in a corner. She watched as the three men communicated quietly, probably planning something new. They came to some sort of decision and two of them started back towards her, the third turning and leaving the room. Her heart sank when she saw that the curly haired man was staying.

"Well, you are a shy little thing aren't you? Don't even know how to have a respectful conversation. Well maybe we've over looked something? What do you think Danvers," he asked the other man.

"Yes sir, it's quite possible we overlooked something. Maybe during her intake?"

The hairs on her body stood up as she saw the look that was passing between the two men. "Danvers, pick our guest up and take her over to the table. Maybe we can make her more comfortable, rearrange the restraints." She was hauled to her feet and dragged over to the table, unable to support herself. Once there, Danvers steadied her as he pulled out a knife to undo her restraints while Curly took a phone call. She thought about trying to fight back, trying to punch him and make for the door, but it would be useless. It was locked from the outside and even if it was open, where would she go? The best she was able to do was pretend to fall into Danvers as he was reapplying her restraints with her wrists bound in front, and pick the pocket he had put the knife in. Danvers was angry she had gotten him wet and Curly wasn't paying attention. She was able to slip the knife into her pocket as Danvers slapped her and she stumbled back, lip splitting and mouth bleeding where her teeth had cut her inner cheek. Somehow, she managed to stay on her feet.

"Now, where were we?" Curly asked in a scary cheerful tone, coming to stand behind her while Danvers positioned himself across the table. "Oh yes, something being overlooked during intake. Now Danvers, was the prisoner given a thorough pat down when she was brought in," Curly questioned as he put his hands on her hips, making her skin crawl.

"Yes sir," Danvers replied, business like in his tone but with something dark flickering behind his eyes. Charlie started to feel sick. "But you know sir, we never gave her a good body search."

"Well, that is lax," Curly replied, his hands drifting from her hips up her sides, to her back, and resting on her shoulders. "After all, we apprehended her with a fire arm. She could have any number of weapons hidden on her person," Curly said before reaching around and violently ripping the front of her black turtleneck open. She gasped and tried to cover herself, but Curly just forced her hands back down. "Well Danvers, do you see anything?" Curly asked as he moved one large hand along her torso, forcing her to stay in place as she struggled. "You know, a lot of women like to hide things in their bra, shall we have a look Danvers?" he said as he unclipped the front of her bra, grabbing and harshly squeezing one of her breasts.

She was struggling and writhing in earnest now, fear squeezing her throat closed so that she couldn't scream, only grunt in exertion and moan in pain as Curly sharply pinched her nipples, already made tender and sore from the cold water. Curly just chuckled at her efforts, pinning her back to his front with one of his massive arms and grinding himself against her bottom.

"You know Sir," Danvers mused. "Women have all those handy little openings and crevices that would be perfect for hiding things."

"It's thinking like that that makes you an excellent agent," Curly answered as one of his hands went to the zipper on her pants. "What do you think, Fiesty," Curly breathed into her ear, "want to show us your secret box so we can see if treasure is hidden inside? Danvers, grab her hands."

Danvers reached across and grabbed her restraints. Yanked by her bound wrists, Charlie found herself face down, bent over across the table. She could barely move; her feet weren't even touching the ground anymore so she had no purchase to try to push off from. Panic was sending adrenaline crashing through her body but she could do nothing with Danvers hands pinning her shoulders to the table while Curly was pulling her pants down to her ankles. Then, in one violent pull, he ripped her black cotton underwear clean off.

"Stop! Please," she was finally able to scream past the lump in her throat.

Pausing, Curly leaned over her and asked into her ear, his breath on her neck, "are you finally ready to talk Fiesty? I was just starting to have fun."

"Yes, please," she huffed out, her breathing shallow and erratic from fear.

"What do you know about Northern Lights?"

She couldn't, just couldn't give in and award Curly the power that knowledge might imbue. "Nothing. Really, I'm just a tour-"

"Wrong answer Fiesty," Curly interrupted in a delighted tone and then he reached down and shoved a finger into her, scratching and tearing her soft vaginal tissue with his rough nails.

"Well Danvers," Curly called over the sound of her screams and the banging of her body against the table as she bucked, struggling to get away. "I don't feel anything inside this tight little bitch, but maybe I'm using the wrong extremity. I think I need something a little longer. If we don't find anything here, we always have other places to look," he remarked, before sharply slapping her ass. "I'll let you search one of the options," he continued, and she could hear him unzipping himself before pulling out and leaning up against her back. "We can flip a coin, decide who gets heads or tails."

She was blind with panic now, screaming and writhing and sobbing, trying to get away. If only she could reach the knife, maybe she could stab one of them. But it was useless. As Curly lined himself up for his "inspection," the speaker sparked to life and the disembodied voice from the dark interrogation room called out, "Danvers, Hersh, report to Interrogation Room C and bring the female prisoner.

"Well, looks like we will have to continue this little search later," Curly, or Hersh rather, whispered into her ear before slowly licking up the side of her neck and sharply biting her ear, drawing blood. "Come on Fiesty, time to see an old friend."

* * *

John hurt as he hung shirtless from the ceiling, bare feet barely touching the ground with a black bag over his head. Not that he was about to give his interrogators the satisfaction of seeing it though. It had been two days since their capture, give or take, and the thing that was really affecting him was the worry for Charlie. He had been through enhanced interrogation before: 16 hours of electrocution outside of Kandahar, denailing, beating, even needles shoved into his nerves by a crazy old German. He had never broken before. He wasn't going to break now.

Still, it was hard to retreat inside himself to the place where he could ignore the sharp edges of the pain and ride out the rest while he wondered what Hersh was doing to Charlie. He hoped that Finch and Shaw would find them soon, because even though Hersh was taking his time, ramping up the torture slowly with sensory and sleep deprivation and general physical beatings, he didn't know if the same tactic was being used with her and the guilt was eating at him.

John was interrupted from trying to center himself again and find the calmness in his mind, by a sudden commotion at the door to his interrogation room. Turning his head towards the sound, he heard the unmistakable footsteps of Hersh coming through the door. "Take him down, put him in the chair," Hersh ordered as others entered the room after him. As John was lowered and unbound, he heard a scuffle and the scraping of chairs as they were dragged to the center of the room. He was forced into one, his wrists and ankles zip tied to the arms and legs of the chair. "I have a little surprise for you John," Hersh replied in the insufferably cheerful tone he used, and pulled the bag off of John's head. The sudden brightness made him blink rapidly to try and bring the room into focus. When it did, his stomach knotted in dread. Charlie was zip tied to the chair in front of him. She was dripping wet and her shirt was torn open down the middle, revealing her bra and bruises forming on her chest. Her long hair was tangled around her, her pants were unbuttoned and she had blood dripping down her chin.

"I brought you a friend John. Since you are being so uncooperative and our timetable has been suddenly moved up, we are going to change our MO. You probably know what's coming," Hersh continued, signaling men to bring a variety of equipment to the center of the room. "So, last chance, want to talk?"

Dread and anger were pumping through him now. He watched as they arranged various surgical equipment on a tray near her and raged against his current impotence. What could he do? Looking into her eyes he saw fear and anger but was stunned when she gave him the slightest shake of her head. She was afraid, but she didn't want to surrender. He felt even more hopeless knowing that even without her consent, he wouldn't have been able to talk to save her. They were both going to have to endure what came next.

"No," John smiled up at Hersh, using his own version of the annoyingly cheerful voice that drove people crazy.

"Wonderful," Hersh said. "It would've spoiled my fun otherwise. Now, let's see. I think we will start with a little electricity and see where the night takes us."

It was unbearable. Her body arched in pain and her screams ripped through the room, barely muffled by the black plastic bite block Danvers had roughly shoved into her mouth while whispering something into her ear that made her eyes go wide in fear and her face drain of all color. He didn't know how long it lasted, Hersh asking a question and then switching on the machine when he didn't answer. It felt like forever but was probably only a matter of minutes. "Let's try something different," Hersh announced as Charlie sagged in the chair, head down and panting. "Danvers what do you say we finish that cavity search we were in the middle of," Hersh said turning back to him with a lecherous smirk as Danvers went to move Charlie. "It seems like John here enjoys watching."

John was so focused on Hersh and struggling to get free of his binds that he didn't even see what happened when Danvers suddenly crumpled to the ground screaming, blood flowing over hands he had clasped to his inner thigh. Charlie had waited until Danvers had undone her zip ties and Hersh was distracted to strike. Demonstrating again her ability to explode into incredible speed, she shot out of her chair, grabbed Danvers' gun and started firing around the room as she ran to John, pressing a knife into his hand. She managed to shoot Hersh in the leg as the other agent was diving for cover, trapped as he was on the opposite side of the room from the door. John managed to cut himself free and dive on Hersh as he was struggling to draw his firearm. John elbowed him in the temple, rendering him unconscious, and grabbed his gun. Standing quickly, he advanced on the other agent who was hiding behind the overturned table, firing as he went and head shooting the agent when he peaked up to fire off a couple more rounds. Stepping over the table, John grabbed his gun and phone. Turning back to the middle of the room, he fluidly bent and punched Danvers in the jaw to knock him out and stop his annoying screams of agony. "Nicely done Charlie," John said, stooping to grab Hersh's security card and then freezing on his way back up. Charlie was standing in the middle of the room, hands pressed to the right side of her upper abdomen, blood oozing through her fingers. She looked up at John, shock etched in her eyes, and started to slowly sag to the ground.

"Fuck," John swore as he lunged to catch her and set her back into one of the chairs. Stooping back down, he ripped Danvers shirt off, wadded it up and pressed it firmly against the wound. Charlie moaned in pain, her body trying to shy away from the pressure he was applying. "Shit, Charlie I need your shirt, give it to me." She started to slowly comply. Once she had it off, he made her keep pressure on the wound as he slid the ruined turtleneck around her waist and tied the sleeves together tightly to keep the other rag in place. "We have to go. Now. I don't think there are any more agents at this black site, but someone will surely have been monitoring the interrogation and have sent a TAC team by now" he said, sliding an arm under hers and around her back and the other under her knees to lift her. "Keep one hand on the bandage and the other around my neck. We're moving. Now."

* * *

"Are we sure about this address?" Shaw asked as they pulled up across from an abandoned looking warehouse near Pier 3 in Brooklyn at one o'clock in the morning.

"This is the address that Ms. Groves gave us," Finch replied, typing away at his laptop, trying to hack into any of the surrounding street cameras. It had been more than 48 hours since John and Charlotte had been taken by the ISA. They had tracked the helicopter to the Floyd Bennet Airfield and cameras had shown a black van leaving five minutes later. Unfortunately the van had disappeared a few blocks into Brooklyn, in a dead zone. "There isn't anything on the cameras, but from what I dug up on the business, it certainly seems like a front."

"That's good enough for me," Shaw said, reaching back to grab a grenade launcher and opening the door. "Stay in the car Harold." But before she could hop out, there was the muffled popping sound of bullets hitting metal and a dark figure emerged through a door that was thrown open. "Reese!" Shaw yelled, jumping out to open the back door as a shirtless John lurched towards them. Finch was alarmed to see John barefooted, face bruised and bloodied, and carrying a shirtless Charlotte who had a blood soaked rag pressed to her abdomen.

John was only half way across the street when two black SUV's barreled around the corner and screeched to a halt, men pouring out and starting to fire. Shaw pointed the grenade launcher and shot out a couple of smoke bombs before switching to her glock and laying down cover fire. John never stopped moving forward, only angling his body so that Charlotte's was out of the line of fire. Continuing to shoot towards the smoke, Shaw shut the rear door as soon as John was in and climbed back into the front. Shoving the gear leaver into drive, she peeled away.

"Shaw, once we're clear I need you back here! I don't know where she was hit, but she's bleeding a lot and her body was already under a lot of stress before she was shot." Shaw gunned it a couple more blocks before pulling swiftly to the curb and switching places with John, grabbing the first aid kit from the trunk before getting in. "Finch, which safe house do we go too?!" John asked, accelerating quickly back into traffic.

"Arranging that now," Finch responded, typing away on his laptop in the passenger seat. "Dr. Madani can meet us at the Baxter Street apartment in 15 minutes."

"Are you sure it's safe to take her to my old place?"

"Yes, it's the closest. We can move her once she's stable if you don't think it's safe. Maybe to that new building we have Mr. Trask managing for us or to one of the floors at our main safe house on Lafayette. What happened?"

"She saved us, that's what happened. I don't know how she managed it, but she stole a knife off one of the agents and got free. They brought her in to try and get me to talk: started electrocuting her. She had to wait until after that to get free."

"I like this girl," Shaw said from the back seat as Finch watched her working hard to make sure that Charlotte stayed alive.


End file.
